


The Compassion of Heaven

by The_Bentley



Series: Rescue Me [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 666 Fics Fics Fics (Good Omens), Aftermath of Torture, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Comfort, Crowley to the Rescue (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue, Threats, Torture, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 19:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Where’s your demon boyfriend, freak?” Uriel asked as his glassy eyes attempted to focus on her.Shaking violently with the pain, Aziraphale knew his body was going into shock.  They had somehow disabled his healing ability.  If he couldn’t heal himself soon he’d discorporate, his spirit doomed to roam bodiless now he had no side to grant him a new corporation.





	The Compassion of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> 666 Fics Fics Fics Prompt: Sin
> 
> I'm really nervous about publishing this one, but I'll put it out there anyway. I'm mean to Aziraphale and I am sorry. :( But Crowley makes it all better because he's awesome like that.

“You have sinned, Aziraphale.” Michael’s voice floated on waves of pain. 

The lashes kept coming, expertly placed by Sandalphon to strip off more skin with each hit, blood spattering on his books from the end of the whip. Aziraphale made soundless sobs when it struck, causing his back to explode in white-hot pain.

They had him tied to one of the pillars in his bookshop, stripped to the waist, suffering from extreme pain and loss of blood. Pieces of flesh hung off his shoulders; blood pooled on the floor. He had screamed himself hoarse. Sandalphon cruelly stuck again, causing Aziraphale’s vision to go black. The blood poured out of viciously deep wounds, the skin nearly gone, leaving layers of muscle exposed. 

He had dislocated a shoulder struggling against the wretched hook that held his arms above his head. Agony shot through him every time he involuntarily flinched. 

“Where’s your demon boyfriend, freak?” Uriel asked as his glassy eyes attempted to focus on her. 

Shaking violently with the pain, Aziraphale knew his body was going into shock. They had somehow disabled his healing ability. If he couldn’t heal himself soon he’d discorporate, his spirit doomed to roam bodiless now he had no side to grant him a new corporation. 

A sound like a fire suddenly flaring to life filled the bookshop. Turning, the three froze in fear.

“Hi. You looking for me?” Tall, dark and rather sinister-looking, Crowley stood there, the humourless grin on his face lit by the flickering hellfire encasing one hand. “Gabriel still doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, does he? That’s so unfortunate for you since you’re two seconds away from becoming ash.”

Uriel sneered, “You wouldn’t.”

An eyebrow cocked above Crowley’s sunglasses. “I took out a Duke of Hell with holy water. What makes you think I’d spare an angel?”

“N-n-nothing,” stammered Sandalphon. 

Michael cleared her throat. “I think we’ll get going.”

They fled.

“Aziraphale? Are you in there?” Crowley’s panicked voice asked. “Talk to me.”

Aziraphale could feel him removing the cuffs, casting them aside with a _clink_, then he was painfully in Crowley’s arms being lowered on to a mattress wished up on the floor. He whimpered softly.

“I’m here now. It’s ok,” Crowley soothed. “Those cuffs were designed to not allow you to heal yourself. You can now.”

Crowley attempted to start the mending process, causing Aziraphale to writhe in pain. “I’m sorry, angel, but I have to touch you to numb it.”

The pain dissipated, but the pressure of Crowley’s fingers remained. “Oh God, it’s bad. I’m going to move us upstairs where it’s more private. I’ll need time to heal you.”

The world changed to Aziraphale’s bedroom, Crowley also bringing the mattress they were on. He had stripped them both naked and was laying up against Aziraphale, ignoring the fact that his entire chest was now covered in the angel’s blood. Healing of this magnitude worked best with skin-to-skin contact, more being better. 

“Go to sleep. Let me work.”

They lay there for days, the blood between their bodies binding them together as it dried. Aziraphale fell into some equivalent of a coma. Crowley slept often to renew his powers, spending his waking hours in a trance that allowed him to concentrate on knitting deep wounds back together. 

Upon awakening, Aziraphale found himself nude on a blood-soaked mattress, Crowley laying naked behind him, slumbering. The critical nature of his wounds for Crowley to take such drastic action…

“Crowley?” His voice cracked.

“Angel? How you feel?” Crowley asked sleepily.

“Been better.” 

Aziraphale felt fingers stroke his hair. He struggled to sit up, still unsteady. Wishing the mess away first, Crowley helped him into the bed by the window. The pair collapsed into it, pulled up the quilts, feeling depleted for different reasons.

“Never again, angel,” promised Crowley. “I’ll never let another person hurt you ever again.”

He placed a careful kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. The two of them lay there cuddling, touching, kissing, thankful they still could. 


End file.
